silently touching others

While sitting in bumper to bumper traffic this morning, I happen to look into my rear view mirror and was delighted to see the smiling face of the gentleman in the car behind me. It was such a sweet smile that I didn’t want to look away. I wondered what he was smiling about. He was not on the phone so I could only assume he was listening to something that pleased him. As his smile grew and stretched across his face I found that mine did also. I kept looking as he nodded his head and watched as his smile grew and grew. The more he smiled the more delighted I felt. I was filled with a sense of joy by it. Then suddenly he broke into a full bolt of laughter, head thrown back, his hands banging the steering wheel, clapping his hand together. The harder he laughed the harder I laughed! It was such a wonderful feeling, this shared laughter with a total stranger; I felt completely filled up by it. Then abruptly he changed lanes and I was so disappointed.

An old red Chevy pulled up close behind me, driven by an older man, somewhat rough looking. He was on the phone screaming at someone. My smile was replaced by a furrow. He was so angry. He was shaking his head and pointing his finger at the voice on the line, banging on the dash. He ended the call and kept shaking his head, putting his hand on his head, gritting his teeth and then began yelling at no one in particular, the traffic, God maybe, me perhaps. Although I was shaken by this, my smile was still lingering under the surface and I all I could think was… the poor bastard. How sad to be so angry at the start of the day. Just as we passed the toll booth he sped around me, running away from the world.

A woman in a BMW pulled up close behind. She looked forlorn, downtrodden, resigned or perhaps just bored out of her mind. She held her tilted head up with her hand, elbow resting on the door, occasionally running her fingers through her hair, looking down into her lap. I felt such sadness looking at her – there was such hopelessness in her vacuous stare. I wondered what her life read like. I wondered if she was alone in the world. I found myself hoping that at the end of the day she drove home to someone who loved her, worshipped her, and gave her reason to drive in the opposite direction with a longing for the embrace that awaited her.

My day had barely begun and I had traveled through a day’s worth of emotions. I wanted to be left with the laughter that began it all so I returned my thoughts to that gentle smile that followed me as I crossed the bridge into the city, affirming that laughter truly is the shortest distance between two people.

new works - mexico 09

the I in i

Women with husbands, women with women, some with children, crying, laughing, shouting; adults renewing memories through the little people they have brought forth; others reliving a tarnished life with a new brush of color. Women with men, women alone, some happy, some not so much; men with other men, with or without children, dogs, cats. Men alone. Some are overwhelmed and travel circles to reach their destination; others rearrange condiments to align with the alphabet of choosing, sure and certain and quiet.

All the lives are hauntingly the same apart from the noise level and degree of participation. Even those alone dream the same dreams, desire interchangeable desires—a wanting for love and laughter, for comfort and safety, a longing to be heard, encouraged, and adored—passion, once foremost on the list, now a secondary consideration overshadowed by a vast wanting to be known and embraced for the I in i.

the pointed sound

opposite the space